^®^  UC-NRLF 

'<$/&& 


00 


. 


er 


Copyrighted  1919 

by 
F.  D.  Merrill. 


To  the  many  friends  who  knew  and  loved  Mr. 
Peter  W.  Sams  we  are  presenting  herewith  three  of  his 
poems,  hitherto  unpublished.  Two  of  the  poems  show 
a  little  of  his  religion  which  like  his  politics  and  his 
views  on  public  questions  was  a  product  of  his  own 
deep  independent  thought.  The  third  poem  is  presented 
as  illustrative  of  his  saving  sense  of  humor  which  made 
his  companionship  enjoyable  to  his  many  friends. 

Born  in  Ohio  in  1840,  the  oldest  child  in  a  large 
family,  he  gave  his  early  life  to  helping  his  younger 
brothers  and  sisters.  In  1864  he  removed  to  Illinois, 
settling  near  Brighton  in  Macoupin  county  where  he 
resided  until  he  removed  to  Los  Angeles,  California,  in 
1890. 

In  1879  he  was  married  to  May  Flannigan  who  died 
two  years  later  leaving  him  with  his  only  child — now 
Mrs.  May  S.  Merrill.  Three  years  later  he  married 
Eliza  J.  Fruit  who  passed  away  about  ten  years  before 
he  was  called  to  his  last  rest. 

He  was  ever  faithful  to  his  friends  and  his  later 
years  were  marked  by  his  devotion  to  his  four  grand- 
children. In  1870  he  took  the  first  three  degrees  in 
Masonry  in  Hibbard  Lodge,  F.  ^A.  M.,  Brighton, 
Illinois.  At  the  time  of  his  death,  ire  was  a  member  of 
Palestine  Lodge,  F.  &  A.  ]V£.,'Lp^  Angeles,'  California, 
and  Palestine  Chapter,  O.  E°.  '  Sv  tos  Arfgeles.  He 
passed  on  to  the  other  side  Ju>ly;  12,;X919K;  ',"  j  i  //« 

416117 


His  philosophy  of  life  is  perhaps  best  shown  in  his 
own  words. 

"This  world  would  be  a  lonesome  place 
Were  we  of  all  our  friends  bereft, 
With  all  our  loved  ones  called  away 
And  none  but  self  to  love  were  left." 

And  again — 

"When  your  mental  skies  are  overcast 
And  for  sunshine  you  are  pining, 
Just  turn  the  dark  clouds  inside  out 
And  take  a  look  at  the  lining/' 

F.  D.  MERRILL. 
Berkeley,  Calif.,  July,  1919. 


Jiffonherful  tlfyouglft  anh  j&mte 


O  wonderful  thought!     How   we're  rapidly  whirled 
Through  boundless  space  on  this  beautiful  world, 
With  its  beautiful  rivers  and  lakes  and  seas, 
Its  beautiful  forests  of  beautiful  trees, 
With  its  beautiful  mountains  whitecapped  with  snow 
And  beautiful  grass  covered  valleys  below, 
With  the  beautiful  verdure  of  its  sun  kissed  hills 
And  its  flowers  kept  beautiful  by  sparkling  rills 
Which  are  formed  by  beautiful  drops  of  rain 
And  flow  from  the  mountain  to  water  the  plain. 
The  clouds  and  the  rainbow  the  stars  and  the  sky 
Are  all  objects  of  beauty  we're  told  by  the  Eye. 

There  are  beautiful  songs  from  the  birds  in  the  trees, 

And  beautiful  music  in  the  hum  of  the  bees, 

In  the  wind  as  it  gently  rustles  the  leaves, 

In  the  raindrops  that  gently  drop  down  from  the  eaves, 

In  the  voices  of  loved  ones  who  to  us  are  dear 

There  is  beautiful  music,  we're  told  by  the  Ear. 

There  is  beauty  in  the  love  of  the  friends  whom  we  meet, 
When  with  kindly  good  fellowship  we  each  other  greet. 
There  is  beauty  in  impressions  that  never  will  fade 
From  the  lives  of  our  fellows  if  lovingly  made. 
But  the  beautiful  things  that  the  world  now  most  needs 
Are  beautiful  thoughts  expressed  in  our  deeds, 
If  such  beautiful  thought  of  our  lives  be  a  part, 
We  shall  know  by  the  joy  that  we  feel  in  the  heart. 


to 


bg  a  Jiun0d:  $fefo£h  from  i\\t 
Cliff*    fear        dalbett  date 


When  the  light  of  your  life  goes  out  from  earth 
May  it  peacefully  pass  away, 
Like  the  golden  gleam  of  the  setting  sun 
O'er  the  sea  at  the  close  of  day 

As  he  sinks  from  sight  in  the  ocean's  heart 
And  his  brightness  fades  away 
To  give  place  to  the  mellower  light  of  the  stars 
That  follow  his  westward  way. 

They  their  silent  and  faithful  vigil  keep 
In  their  peaceful  and  quiet  way 
O'er  the  swelling  bosom  of  the  billowy  deep 
Till  the  dawn  of  the  coming  day. 

May  good  guardian  angels  watch  over  you  then 
As  the  stars  watch  over  the  deep 
And  keep  in  their  memory  the  good  you  have  done 
While  you're  taking  your  last  long  sleep. 

Then  may  your  new  life  like  the  rising  sun 

Burst  forth  in  a  cloudless  sky 

And  shine  brighter,  grow  happier,  more  beautiful  still 

As  eternity's  eons  roll  by. 

And  there  in  the  presence  of  God  may  you  live 
And  enjoy  the  reward  of  the  blest 
In  that  beautiful  land  —  the  home  of  the  good 
The  land  of  eternal  rest. 


esormiwm  nf 

J 

te 
ten  ta  a 


You  asked  me  to  write  you  and  tell  of  my  trip 
Now  I'll  open  the  throttle  and  just  let  'er  rip. 
I  left  Los  Angeles  the  steamer  to  take, 
And  went  to.  San  Pedro  via  the  Salt  Lake. 

I  there  left  the  train  and  boarded  the  Yale 
Which  lay  at  the  dock  just  ready  to  sail. 
In  the  harbor  the  water  was  quiet  enough 
But  outside  of  there  it  was  pretty  —  well,  rough. 

We  watched  the  wide  water  from  earliest  dawn, 
That  we  might  see  a  whale  out  sprinkling  the  lawn 
Some  didn't  get  seasick  and  some  of  us  did, 
And  it  took  lots  of  pressure  to  hold  down  the  lid. 

Away  down  in  the  water  looking  over  the  rail 
You  might  see  a  big  fish  standing  up  on  his  tail, 
With  his  mouth  wide  open  as  big  as  a  tub 
And  big  tears  in  his  eyes  as  he  looked  up  for  grub. 

When  some  poor  sea  sick  Satan  with  a  heluvahoop 
Would  hump  up  his  back  and  pass  him  the  soup. 
It  was  awful  to  hear  the  heart  rending  groans 
As  we  thought  of  the  locker  of  old  Davy  Jones. 


But  at  last  our  good  ship  triumphed  over  fate 
And  brought  us  all  safely  in  through  the  Gate, 
To  the  city  that  was  shaken  so  hard  by  the  quake 
And  afterwards  burned  like  the  one  by  the  lake. 

Now :     If  you  don't  credit  what  I've  said  by  this  pen 
And  think  I'm  a  liar  just  ask  me  again. 
If  then  you  don't  believe  it  don't  raise  a  big  fuss 
For  it's  all  you  will  get  from  your  friend, 

A  Kweerkuss. 


Oaylord  Bros. 

Makers 

Syracuse,  N.  Y. 
PAT.  JAN.  21,  1908 


YB 


416117 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


